


Bad Boy Down

by tristinai



Series: Bad Decisions [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Breaking and Entering, Come Eating, Facials, M/M, Manipulation, NON CONSENSUAL FILMING, Size Kink, Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, bottom!Gavin, gangster!Nines, he's still unhinged but he's so soft for Gavin, hinted blackmail, like it's really smutty, mentions of Hannor, one-sided Convin, reed900, rim jobs, soft!Nines, top!Nines, villain!Nines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 07:16:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17824319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristinai/pseuds/tristinai
Summary: Gavin’s not gonna contact Nines. He’s gonna put that night behind him and pretend it never happened. Nines, however, has other plans.





	Bad Boy Down

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the sequel I wasn't sure would happen, with [NixObscura's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixObscura/pseuds/NixObscura) seal of approval. Credit given where credit is due: without her to bounce ideas off of and proofread the garbage I write, this stuff would sit on my laptop and collect dust. So thank you for putting up with my self-doubt and insanity ;).
> 
> The title for this part was inspired by Red Velvet's [Bad Boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_CFBjAyPWE). I'd like to say that there are many machinations at work for this verse but, nope, it's just KPop songs and my dirty mind.
> 
> Please read all tags before continuing. And as always, enjoy ;)

“You know, you can’t stay mad at me forever.”

  
  
Gavin glowers, arms folded over his chest. He very pointedly stares out the passenger side window, looking anywhere but at his asshole partner. A blanket of freshly fallen snow covers the streets of Detroit, crunching beneath the roll of the vehicle’s tires. Fuck, he needs a smoke.

  
  
“It was for your own safety. We had to be sure your identity wasn’t compromised.”

  
  
He ignores him, pats down the front of his leather coat. Shit. He forgot he finished off his pack early this morning, while he had been waiting to finally get out of that fucking safe house. There’s only so much instant coffee and Nicholas Cage films a guy can take before he goes stir crazy.

  
  
“It could have been worse, Gav. And quite frankly, your continued pouting doesn’t change anything. It’s over with and now you can—“

  
  
“Two weeks, Con,” Gavin snaps, unable to keep it in any longer, “Two god damn weeks of shitty cable, shitty coffee, and no internet. Fuck, I didn’t even have my phone—“

  
  
“Because _that_ is something that is easily traceable—“

  
  
“—and it didn’t even fucking matter because, like I said, the pricks who jumped me thought ‘Dex’ was an informant! You didn’t have to go pulling god damn rank on me and—!”

  
  
“—and what? Risk fishing you out of the Detroit River?” Connor shouts above Gavin, turning the vehicle a bit too sharply in his anger. Gavin already feels the oncoming headache and it’s only been twenty minutes since Connor picked him up. “Well, apologies, Gavin, for putting the well-being of my partner above his addiction to reckless behavior! Sometimes, I swear—“

  
  
“—cut the guilt trip shit, Con! You know that’s not gonna work with me! Fuck, I had it under control—!”

  
  
“—and yet, you’re the one who called the precinct in the middle of an undercover op and said you had reason to think Kamski’s onto you,” Connor finishes, eyes flickering from the road briefly to glare at Gavin. “If getting captured and threatened is your definition of ‘under control’, remind me to never again defer to you for guidance on how to run a sting operation.”

  
  
“I meant I had the whole keeping my identity secret shit under control! Like I told you,” Gavin sneers, emphasizing each word as if he is admonishing a child, “some assholes jumped me, blindfolded me and brought me fuck knows where and said if I ever showed my face around the bar again, they’d make an example of me. Said they know I’m in bed with the cops and they don’t want some fucking nark sniffing around their business.”

  
  
“And you still have no idea who it was?”

 

It’s more accusatory than curious and Gavin’s pinching the bridge of his nose, wondering why it has to be like this. There was a time when this was foreplay—every fight escalating until it became near physical and the shouts became low moans until clothes were strewn across the room and someone was being fucked against the nearest available surface.

 

Now, Gavin’s just ticking off the minutes in his head until Connor drops him off and he can get the fuck out of the car.

  
  
“You forgetting the part where I said I was blindfolded? Fuck sakes, Con, it was all in the report!”  
  


  
“As I am aware,” Connor says, gritting his teeth. “I meant, are you certain you would be unable to ID anyone by their voice? None of the dealers you had contact with in your weeks undercover?”

  
  
“With that head injury? Come on, Con—you know every state appointed scumbag would eat that shit alive in court, even if I could remember the fuckers who did it,” Gavin answers.

 

There’s a slow growing guilt that’s been eating at him since he filed his report. He can tell himself it’s not lying but an omission of events—he really has no fucking clue who _most_ of the men that brought him to Nines were—but it’s hard to justify leaving out the part where he sort of got tricked into playing Russian Roulette all so he could be propositioned by the man he was supposed to be arresting.

 

Not Gavin’s proudest moment. And if he’s perfectly honest? It’s getting harder and harder to remember why he felt guilty in the first place the more Connor bitches at him.

 

“—are you even listening?!”

 

And Gavin does the one thing that he knows will piss Connor off even more.

 

He shrugs.

 

Connor brakes hard at the light and Gavin can see from the corner of his eye how tightly the lieutenant grips the steering wheel. His lips are pulled in a thin line and Gavin knows Connor is struggling to keep his voice even, chooses his words carefully so they don’t spend the rest of the drive shouting above each other.

 

Seven fucking years and yeah, Connor may be with that loser Anderson but Gavin is willing to bet what little savings he has that he still knows how to get under his ex’s skin better than anyone else.

 

Step 1: Nonchalance.

 

Gavin idly taps his fingers on his knees.

 

“—had to explain to the _Captain_ why after all that planning, our undercover operative managed to—”

 

Step two: _Selectively_ tune him out.

 

“—and you had hardly met with the target, hadn’t even established contact—”

 

 _Oh, I established contact,_ Gavin thinks, holding back a smirk. _All nine fucking inches of it._

 

Fuck, he can still recall how fucking _full_ he felt when Nines was balls deep in him and giving him that awesome pounding. He couldn’t sit right for days.

 

“—and any time I’ve tried bringing it up with you, I’ve been met with belligerence. _Belligerence,_ Gav! And you should be gunning to have whoever did this to you behind bars—”

 

Step three: Make it obvious you’d rather be anywhere _but_ having this conversation.

 

That last part was more for Gavin’s sanity than Connor’s growing ire.

 

“—so I have had no choice but to conclude that there must be something you omitted in your report.”

 

And since Gavin has just decided to tune in once again, he startles at the unexpected declaration.

 

... _fuck!_

 

Complain all he wants, there’s a good reason Connor became lieutenant.

 

“Shit!” Gavin curses, unable to stop himself.

 

Connor smirks that shit-eating grin that makes Gavin want to murder him.

 

“I ran out of smokes,” the detective says, pulling the empty pack from his pocket and tossing it up on the dash. Of Connor’s car. The car that Connor’s kept in immaculate condition since he purchased it five years ago, scrubbed clean even after the numerous times Gavin’s left ‘evidence’ of the shit they got up to during particularly long stake outs. He only has to half-fake his disappointment as he really wants a fucking cigarette, even as Connor’s glare turns murderous, hoping the lieutenant doesn’t catch on. “Mind stopping by the gas station near my place?”

 

“...are you even going to answer my question?”

 

“What the fuck were you saying again? Not gonna lie, Con, I stopped listening after ‘blah blah blah target blah blah’.”

 

His knuckles are so white from gripping the steering wheel, Gavin is half surprised the pressure hasn’t shattered it. “So, in other words, you’ve listened to _nothing_ I’ve said in the past five minutes.”

 

Silence passes between them and it takes Gavin a good fifteen seconds before he realizes Connor is waiting for a reply. “Wait...that wasn’t rhetorical?”

 

“Gavin.”

 

Emphasis on each syllable.

 

Yep. Connor is livid.

 

Gavin shrugs again.

 

Instead of the string of anger Gavin expects, he’s met with a long drawn sigh. It’s clear Connor has more to say on the subject but they’ve reached an impasse and both are too stubborn to back down. He’s not sure if Connor is convinced by his diversion but for now, he’ll take it.  


“So...where are we on those smokes?”

 

The venomous look Connor gives him is enough for Gavin to opt for self-preservation and he quietly removes the empty pack of cigarettes from the dashboard.

 

 _Phck!_ This drive could not end soon enough.

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin tosses his keys on the counter, makes for the bedroom immediately where he knows he’s got a few cancer sticks left. There’s a near empty pack sitting on his dresser and he takes it, pockets it and tries not to stare at the burner phone he’d left beside it. It beckons him with a silent lure and if he closes his eyes, he swears he can feel hot breath tickling the back of his neck, a voice whispering, “I know what you _want_ , Gavin. I can give you everything _he_ couldn’t,” and fuck if Gavin’s not tempted, if his hand is not itching to press the _Home_ key and see if he’s received any messages.

 

Instead, he takes his actual phone and heads out onto the attached balcony. The cold hits him immediately and he releases a small shiver, takes one of the cigarettes and lets it dangle loosely between his lips as he fumbles around for his lighter. Once lit, he takes a long, slow drag of it, nearly moaning as his lungs fill. Exhales slowly, watches the white smoke dissipate in the air before him, tendrils stretching towards the melting pieces of snow dripping from the roof of the balcony.

 

He hates the winter, hates freezing his fucking balls off just to get a bit of nicotine in him, but Connor never allowed him to smoke inside when they lived together – always complained about the smell coming off of him when he went back in – and Gavin’s too stubborn to let this habit die. Because the moment he starts breaking these little rules, starts living as if Connor’s never coming back, is that terrifying moment of acceptance that this is his new normal.

 

And fuck if not part of him, even the part that hates the constant arguing, doesn’t want desperately for Connor to use those spare keys he has, walk through that door, and tell Gavin that marrying Hank is a mistake.

 

Gavin inhales deeply, holds the smoke as long as his lungs will allow. He peruses his messages, sees what he’s missed – mostly shit Tina sent him, stupid memes and cat videos to check out after he’s ‘out of Purgatory’. Fucking right it was Purgatory; the world kept spinning and Gavin was stuck in an endless cycle of wake up, drink coffee, jerk off, watch shitty Cage films, eat, jerk off again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

 

“ _Gavin.”_

 

He thinks of the way that voice lilted like a gentle sigh, uttering each syllable with a reverence that sent a warm shiver trickling down his spine. And wasn’t this how it always started, Gavin’s head reconstructing that sound until he’s transported back in that room, feeling Nines’ hands on him, tasting those hot lips that whispered false promises until Gavin’s so heady on the bullshit he’s been fed, he’s supplicating himself to a man who very well could be plotting his demise at this moment? It’s not like it wouldn’t fit the fucker’s MO: Nines is meticulous and doesn’t start anything without seeing it through to perfect completion. And he’s in Gavin’s head deep enough that even now, Gavin can feel his cock twitching with interest in his jeans.

 

And that is why Gavin will **not** contact Nines. Will let the events of that evening remain buried beneath all the bullshit he filed in his report.

 

Instead, Gavin will continue to live in a Purgatory of his own making: living by the rules set by the last man he knows will be walking through his front door and reinserting himself back in Gavin’s life as if the last year and a half was a bad dream.

 

He’s down to the butt of the cigarette and smothers the remnants of its flame in the nearby ashtray, watching miserably as it flickers out.

 

Yep. That’s him, Gavin Reed: a pathetic mess of a man.

 

Without a cigarette to hold, his free hand twitches at his side.

 

_Don’t do it. Don’t you fucking dare._

 

He clicks open the first of the cat videos Tina sent him. Now, more than ever, he needs the god damn distraction.

 

...shit, he’s seen that one already.

 

His eyes flicker to the door of the balcony.

 

_You stupid fuck. It’s not worth it._

 

Texting a criminal for a booty call? Bad. Fucking. Idea. Even if the asshole’s charismatic as fuck, hotter than the underwear models Gavin sometimes jacks off too, and the best fuck Gavin’s had in too fucking long.

 

Gavin tries scrolling through the memes, tries to keep his mind occupied, desperate to drown out the moans echoing in his head.

 

Fuck...fuck!

 

The moment his foot crosses the threshold from balcony to bedroom, he knows he’s been defeated by his own dick.

 

Why can’t he do the sensible thing and pick up someone at a bar or use one of those shitty hookup apps?

 

He tells himself it’s because he hates the lead up, all the bullshit small talk until someone says what they’re both thinking and cocks start getting sucked. But he knows the real reason, as loathe as he is to admit it to himself:

 

Because none of them would be _Nines_.

 

He makes it to the dresser, goes to grab the phone…

 

...and it’s not there.

 

“The fuck?” he mutters.

 

He pulls open the top drawer, moves around the boxer briefs and worn socks, shifting to see if that’s where it ended up. He swears he left it on his dresser, saw it a few minutes ago, but he’s got a shitty habit of throwing stuff in here that he doesn’t want to deal with. In his desperation, he begins to toss the drawer’s contents on the floor, growing increasingly paranoid as his search turns up empty.

 

Hastily, he makes for the kitchen, recalling that he at least put his keys there. He doesn’t remember stepping out of his room but know the fuck knows?

 

To his disappointment, he sees only his keys on the counter.

 

“Where the fuck did I put it?” he mumbles.

 

“Looking for something, Detective?”

 

He nearly jumps out of his skin as a voice smoother than silk tickles the edge of his ear. In his panic, he tries to elbow the person behind him, dominant hand reaching for his holstered gun, but the intruder has both his arms, pins him to the counter and immobilizes him. Gavin struggles but he’s held in a vice and it’s clear he’s not going anywhere.

 

“You even think of trying anything, asshole and I’ll—”

 

“I would relax if I were you, Detective Reed,” comes the even response, hint of mirth in that cool tone. “The last time you pulled a weapon on me, it didn’t work out so well for you.”

 

It sends a trill straight to Gavin’s dick the moment he _recognizes_ that voice. “Nines?”

 

The intruder presses into Gavin and, yep, it’s _Nines._ “Is this what you were looking for?”

 

He can smell his musky cologne, feels a surge of warmth at how easily he fits against Nines’ solid frame. He barely registers the phone being held in front of his face until Nines is pressing the _Home_ button and the screen flickers on, indicating three messages were missed.

 

“It’s rude to leave messages unanswered,” Nines whispers, pausing to mouth at the shell of Gavin’s ear. The way he pulls the cartilage teasingly between his teeth has Gavin unconsciously pushing back against the gangster’s front. Fuck. He’s missed those lips, missed that sultry voice. He’s missed _him._ “Wouldn’t you say, Gavin?”

 

Unable to trust his voice, Gavin nods weakly.

 

“Perhaps we should check them.”

 

[9s Jan 29 01:09 AM]

_To view at your convenience_

 

The second message is a short video clip, no more than 30 seconds. Much to his embarrassment, Gavin immediately identifies the figure bent over the table, jeans pulled down to his knees, and the man bending over him, in the still. His face colors.

 

[9s Jan 29 01:12 AM]

_Let me know when you are ready to make more memories ;)_

 

“You video taped it, you sick fuck?!”

 

“Consider it collateral, should you decide to do something untoward, such as attempt to carry through with your silly investigation and misinform a certain lieutenant of the events that unfolded in that warehouse,” Nines says. “If I was to be arrested, I had to be sure that the DPD was aware of how _cooperative_ their detective was during our little game.”

 

“Cooperative? You fucking forced me to play!” Gavin snaps.

 

There’s a cool huff that tickles the hairs on the back on his neck. “If memory serves me well, I believe it was _you_ , Gavin, who begged me for it. In fact, let’s jog that memory of yours and see how compliant you became with the right motivation.”

 

Before Gavin can protest, Nines presses the _Play_ button on the screen. Despite the shitty, flickering lighting, the video is clear and crisp and fuck the advances in technology, anyone who’s had a passing glance at Gavin’s face would be able to clearly identify him as the man moaning and keening back against the dick slamming into him, his cries loud enough to drown the scraping of the table against the warehouse floor. _“Nines, oh fuck, Nines!”_ is uttered in a wanton litany, the name he moans punctuated with the slap of the gangster’s hips against his ass.

 

Watching the way he writhed and begged for Nines’ cock made Gavin’s face heat, blood flow below his waist until, much to his shame, he felt his hard-on pressing against the counter.

  
  
“Enjoying the show you put on, Detective?” Nines whispers, with a low chuckle. He replays the video, his other hand reaching around to palm Gavin through his jeans. “I particularly like this part right...here.”

  
  
As Nines slams against Gavin in the video, video Gavin releases a lecherous moan so filled with need, the real Gavin is half surprised that wasn’t what did him in.

  
  
“Yes, that does very much sound like a man being forced to engage in an activity he would otherwise find repulsive,” Nines adds.

  
  
Gavin grits back a whine at how fucking wonderful Nines’ hand feels. Fuck, how many times had his own hand ghosted over his cock these past few weeks, trying to mimic the grip and pressure of Nines’, only to succumb moments later to the slap of his shaft against his palm? How many fucking times had Gavin gotten off sniffing that fucking handkerchief and wishing is was something thicker and fuller plunging into his ass and not his lube-slicked fingers?

  
  
Fuck, how much denial was he gonna choke on until he admits he’s in so fucking deep, there’s no getting out?

  
  
“Nice try, prick, but no one’s gonna buy this. Not after they see that gun play shit.”

  
  
A lot, apparently.

  
  
“So stubborn. But our tête-à-tête would hardly be this enjoyable if you gave in so easily,” Nines says and Gavin can just feel the smirk in his voice, shivers as Nines licks the edge of his ear. “Admit it, Gavin: you’re loving the attention.”

  
  
“Eat shit,” Gavin chokes out and no, his voice does not crack with need. He squirms, attempts to move away from that hand that’s teasing the ache in his pants, but it only makes Nines pin him more roughly against the counter. “T-that why you’re here? To blackmail me? I didn’t say shit so you can fuck off already.”

  
  
“Contrary to your insistence that I must gain some joy in tormenting you—I do, but that’s hardly the point—has it ever occurred to you that my intentions are perhaps a lot less nefarious?”

  
  
He places the phone down on the counter, relaxes the hand that’s been palming Gavin. With a tenderness that almost startled the detective, Nines traces the stubbly line of of Gavin’s jaw, dips his head to kiss softly at the exposed flesh on the detective’s neck. A sound spills off the detective’s lips, his skin yearning for more of the gangster’s touch. He shouldn’t want any of this but he’s reacting and quickly forgetting why this is a shitty idea.

  
  
“It’s been some time since I’ve heard from you,” Nines says, quietly. He kisses the side of Gavin’s mouth and Gavin whimpers, turns his head to try and chase those lips. But Nines remains a hairsbreadth out of reach, his voice a whisper against Gavin’s touch-starved skin. “I _missed_ you. And I think you missed me, too.”

  
  
_No_ , Gavin says in his head. _Just say it. Just say ‘No’._

  
  
“Fuck,” he says, instead.

  
  
And drops his head down on the counter.

  
  
Talk about god damn déjà vu.

  
  
He takes a deep, shaky breath, weighs his options.

  
  
“Assaulting an officer in his own home is at least 6 months of hard time. All I have to do is shout and I bet one of my asshole neighbors will call 9-1-1 on your ass.”

  
  
Yeah fucking right. Him and Connor used to get into some pretty vicious screaming matches and his neighbors never so much as gave a rat’s ass. Not that Nines needs to know that.

  
  
“I am certain that if your neighbors make a noise complaint, it won’t be because you’re shouting for help,” Nines answers coyly, nuzzling the back of Gavin’s neck.

  
  
Smooth mother fucker.

 

The unholstering of his gun should set off some sort of warning but Nines merely sets it aside, returns to lavishing attention to what little skin is exposed above the collar of Gavin’s shirt.

  
  
Gavin squirms again and is almost surprised Nines gives him enough room to turn around and face the gangster. A hand rests possessively on either side of him, a reminder that the only reason Gavin is no longer pinned down is because Nines is allowing this.

 

This is it. Now’s the time to tell this blackmailing prick that there will be no round 2.  
  
“….”

 

The protest is there, on his tongue, with an arsenal of vitriol to accompany it. But Gavin’s staring at that handsome face, moles stark against porcelain skin, and his eyes drop to the bemused pulling of those lips. In that moment, all that matters is how much Gavin _wants._

 

“Fine. If we’re gonna do this, we gotta lay some ground rules.”

  
  
So much for sticking to his guns.

 

Nines laughs. A deep, throaty laugh that drips with condescension. Gavin glares at him.

  
  
“It’s cute that you think you have some semblance of control.”

  
  
Nines goes to stroke Gavin’s cheek but he swats the hand away irritably, his face heating. “I’m serious, Nines. Connor’s already riding my ass about that bullshit report I filed and I doubt Kamski’s gonna be shitting rainbows if he finds out you’re fucking around with a detective.”

  
  
“My _hobbies_ are hardly any concern of Kamski’s,” Nines mutters, though Gavin doesn’t miss the dark look that passes over his features, however brief.

  
  
“Yeah, so maybe spend two fucking seconds hearing me out before we go to Pound Town.”

  
  
Nines cocks a brow. “Pound Town? How eloquent.“

  
  
“You know what I fucking mean!” Gavin snaps, blush deepening in his embarrassment. “So, yeah, the rules: First of all, I’m a cop.”

 

“It hasn’t escaped my notice.”

 

“Obviously, Smart Ass. But that doesn’t change that this thing here, cop and Kamski’s personal hit man--”

 

“ _Allegedly_ ,” Nines says and Gavin can’t help but roll his eyes. “I prefer...professional problem solver.”

 

“Fine. Cop and ‘professional problem solver’. I’m not really down with you bringing all that ‘illegal’ shit into whatever the fuck it is we’re doing.”

 

“If this is your way of inquiring whether I am in possession of substances whose legality is in question, I must inform you that I am uncomfortable continuing this conversation without a lawyer present.”

 

“Oh, for fuck sakes!” Gavin groans in frustration, dropping his head onto Nines’ chest. He feels Nines’ chuckle shaking in his chest and there is something oddly warm about the sound, has him pressing his cheek to the soft fabric of the gangster’s shirt. Arms encircle him and he stiffens briefly before melting into the embrace, his pulse racing as Nines begins to rub his back. It just feels...nice.

 

“I meant I don’t need to hear about whatever shit you get up to when you’re not with me,” Gavin tries again, talking into Nine’s chest. “I can’t fucking arrest you if I have no idea what laws you’re breaking.”

 

“So, you prefer to live by the ‘ignorance is bliss’ principle?”

 

“Something like that, yeah.”

 

A pause. “I suppose I can accommodate such a simple request.”

 

Nines finally closes the distance between them, leaning down to graze his lips teasingly against Gavin’s. But it’s the breaking of a dam that’s been building for weeks and Gavin can’t help himself, throws his arms around Nines’ neck, mouth moving hungrily against the gangster’s until Nines parts his lips, allows him to deepen the kiss. Tongue stroking against the detective’s, Nines wastes no time in asserting his control, hands grasping Gavin’s hips roughly, grip bruising. But it only makes Gavin whimper, grow heady off the knowledge that he’ll be seeing the evidence of Nines’ touch on his skin for days to come. And hopefully this time, he won’t be holed up in a fucking safe house and have to wait weeks for a repeat, till the bruises have long faded and Nines’ scent no longer lingers on his skin.

 __  
  
_“_ Fuck,” Gavin pants against Nines’ lips, chasing them for another wet, chaste kiss. “Don’t know how much it fucking sucked being stuck in that safe house.”

 __  
  
_“_ I think I have some idea,” Nines chuckles. He kisses Gavin’s chin, peppers his skin with more as he traces a path down to Gavin’s neck. Pulls olive flesh between his teeth, nibbles that spot that always makes Gavin weak in the knees and it’s almost irritating how the fucker’s had him only once and can already make him come undone. “I’ve been without you, too, Gavin. Perhaps it’s time I show you just how much I’ve _missed_ you.”

 __  
  
With feline-like grace, Nines drops to his knees and fuck if that isn’t the kind of shit that has Gavin’s cock weeping in his jeans. Pale gray eyes glance up coyly at the detective, dangerous smirk tugging the edge of those lips, and Gavin knows the fucking suit Nines is wearing is worth more than all the shit in his apartment and yet, the gangster has zero fucks to give as he kneels on Gavin’s unswept floor.

 __  
  
Lifting the edge of Gavin’s t shirt, Nines drags his tongue through the hair that trails down to the hem of Gavin’s jeans, tongue dipping into the detective’s bellybutton. Gavin chokes back a sound, tangles his fingers in Nines’ soft locks, dick straining in the confines of his clothing as Nines pointedly ignores it to place wet kisses across Gavin’s abdomen.

 __  
  
_“_ Fucking tease,” Gavin complains but without any malice. Jesus Christ, how many fucking times has he jacked off to this, to the thought of Nines on his knees and using that slick tongue to get him off? And the asshole may be taking his sweet ass time with it but it’s only making Gavin’s heart pound harder as he hears that zipper come down.

 __  
  
_“_ I think it unwise to complain, given the extreme patience you exhibited when you were in my position,” Nines advises and he has the fucking audacity to wink.

 __  
  
Asshole.

 __  
  
Fuck, Gavin wants to fuck his mouth so badly, he’s that close to begging the prick to get on with it already.

 __  
  
A buzzing from his pocket has the gangster pausing, his fingers toying with the outline of Gavin’s cock.

 __  
  
_“_...were you expecting a call?”

 __  
  
Gavin’s tempted to just let it keep ringing—he’s not scheduled to go back in until tomorrow morning anyway—but if it is work, it means something so important’s come up that not even Connor’s gonna honor his promise to let Gavin get settled back in tonight. With a curse, he pulls out his phone, checks the caller ID: Lieutenant Fuckface.

 __  
  
_“_ Shit, really???”

 __  
  
Gavin places the phone face down on the counter, letting it buzz. It’s not like he ever answers his phone anyway. He’ll let it go to voice, check the message after him and Nines are done, and if it’s important, head to wherever the fuck Connor needs him to go.

 __  
  
_“_ You’re not going to answer it?”

 __  
  
The phone buzzes again.

 __  
  
Gavin shrugs. “It’d be weirder if I did. Con knows I hate talking on the phone. Gonna check in with him later.”

 __  
  
A mischievous look passes over Nines’ face, an almost maniacal glee brightening those pale eyes. He tugs the hem of Gavin’s boxers down, grasps the base of his shaft to free Gavin’s cock, and the detective inhales sharply. “Answer it.”

 __  
  
_“_ The fuck would I do that?”

 __  
  
_“_ Answer it. Or I’ll stop.”

 __  
  
Gavin wants to complain further but he also really wants to get his dick sucked. So instead of questioning it, he mutters under his breath and picks up his phone. The shit he does for head. “Yeah?”

 __  
  
A pause. “I wasn’t expecting you to pick up.”

 __  
  
_“_ Yeah, well apparently I’m full of fucking surprise—ah!”

 __  
  
Gavin only just manages to bite back the rest of his moan as Nines licks a long, slow stripe up the shaft of his cock.

 __  
  
_“_ Is something the matter, Gav?”

 __  
  
Gavin glares down at Nines, who looks way too fucking pleased with himself. “N-nothing. Just stubbed my toe. Something up?”

 __  
  
The fingers tangled in Nines’ hair grip sharply as Nines pulls Gavin’s cock between his lips, suckles softly on the head of it. The loud and embellished sounds he’s making are so fucking obvious that Gavin tries to angle his phone away so the speaker doesn’t pick up on it, his face red hot with embarrassment as he struggles to focus on what Connor is saying.

 __  
  
_“_ I know I promised I would let you rest tonight but I’ve been thinking about our conversation from earlier,” Conversation? More like fucking argument, “and I feel terrible about how we left things off. You are right: it wasn’t fair of me to question your judgment or to question your instincts as the lead detective in the investigation.”

 __  
  
Gavin grits out a sound of affirmation, wheezes pitifully as Nines spits in his palm, pumps it firmly on his shaft.

 __  
  
_“_ It’s something Captain Anderson has said I need to work on: trusting my subordinates and not micromanaging them on their assignments.”

 __  
  
Gavin nestles his phone between his shoulder and ear, bites down hard on his fist to keep from crying out loud.

 __  
  
_“_ Admittedly, I was expecting to leave this apology as a voice message and—Gavin? Are you listening?!”

 __  
  
_“_ Ye—yes,” Gavin chokes out.

 __  
  
Nines takes him deep, cheeks hollowing out and Gavin already feels that close to blowing his load as his cock hits the narrow entrance of the gangster’s throat. Fuck, Nines takes him with an ease that should make Gavin jealous—how much practice has the asshole had?—but Gavin knows he’s got nowhere near what Nines has, can’t even bring himself to give any fucks over being about as average as they come: Nines is deep-throating him and it feels fucking amazing.

 

“Because I get the impression that you’re either trying to draw out my apology or you are too distracted to give me your full attention. Knowing you, I expect it’s some combination of both.”

 

_Oh for fuck’s sake._

 

Gavin can already hear the edge in Connor’s voice and truth is if he wasn’t sinking his dick into the wet, hot cavern of Nines’ throat, perhaps he would be losing his patience as well, fanning that flame until both him and Connor were once again shouting over each other. He tugs Nines hair none too gently, pulls out until the tip of his cock rests against Nines’ lips, and then rolls his hips forward. The wet squelch it makes has his toes curling and Gavin nearly drops his phone.

 

“F-fuck, Con, n-not this again,” he grits out, his voice hoarse as he fucks Nines’ mouth. The gangster just takes it, lets Gavin abuse his throat and pull his hair, eyes wide as he stares up at the detective. Gavin can feel it in his core, the slow build of those pleasurable trills as he edges closer to the precipice. And god, he wants nothing more than to spill hot and hard all over Nines’ face, paint those pale cheeks in threads of his cum.

 

“You’re right,” Connor says with a sigh and the tip of Gavin’s tongue is between his teeth, swallowing a groan before it can push between his lips, balls hitting Nines’ chin each time he thrusts into the gangster’s mouth, “I apologize. It’s—this case, Gav. I’ve been under a lot of pressure taking over for Hank. Sometimes, it feels as if the entire department is judging me and it doesn’t help that with this setback in the Kamski case, it may be months before we can try and send in another operative.”

 

“Mmm,” Gavin says, trying to keep his voice steady. Shit, he was not expecting Connor to want a heart-to-heart. It’s been forever since they’ve had a conversation that’s been more than barbs and passive-aggressive quips. Why the fuck did he answer his phone again?

 

Oh, right: the 6’2’ hot piece of ass who’s sucking him off like he’s some cum-starved porn star aching to swallow Gavin’s load. And Gavin’s so ready to blow it, trembling on shaky legs as he struggles to hold on, knowing that the moment his orgasm hits, he won’t be able to hold anything back. Last thing he needs is Connor thinking he’s jacking it while Connor’s in the middle of some sort of career-related crisis.

 

“—trying not to let the fact that it’s Rich cloud my judgment—”

 

Nines’ mouth pops off loudly, saliva dripping off his chin. Gavin wants to whine—chokes it back—when the gangster fists his cock, gives it a firm pump. His lips move to Gavin’s sac, mouthing at his balls and Gavin’s about to fucking lose it, is sure he’s pulled out more than a few of Nines’ hairs from how hard he’s grasping those soft strands.

 

“—our chance to make a big dent in Detroit’s drug problem and I feel like I’ve been only messing things up—”

 

“Shit!” Gavin groans as Nines moves his wrist faster, the slap of his cock sliding against the gangster’s palm echoing loudly in the room. Nines takes the entirety of Gavin’s sac in his mouth, sucking voraciously on it and Gavin is unable to hold back a whine as he glances down with his half-lidded gaze at the wanton show Nines is putting on for him. “G-gonna have to c-call you back, Con. My foot’s f-f-fucking bleeding!”

 

“Gav—!”

 

He hits the END CALL, slams the phone down on the counter and fucks into Nines’ firm grip. Nines is unrelenting as he twists his hand, mouth popping off Gavin’s balls and giving him a self-satisfied smirk that makes Gavin more desperate to bury it in streaks of white. With a tone far more innocent than it has any right to be, Nines asks, “Mouth or face?”

 

Gavin barely processes it, yanks back roughly to angle Nines’ face for the perfect cumshot. “F-face! F-fucking face! Shit, Nines—!”

 

He whites out in an explosion of pleasure that ripples from low in his abdomen, the gangster’s name a broken cry that spills off his lips. As he’s rocked by wave after wave of bliss, he watches, mouth agape, as cum threads across Nines’ face, coating his cheeks in translucent, sticky wads of white. Barely able to hold himself up, Gavin collapses back against the counter, trembling as Nines milks him, eager lips catching the last of the droplets that dribble from the tip of his cock.

 

Panting heavily, he gazes down at the gangster, who’s licking his own lips, gray eyes darting up to ensure Gavin’s attention is raptly focused on the lecherous slide of his tongue. And fuck has Nines never looked so hot, wearing Gavin’s spunk like a damn Pollack painting in muted shades of white.

 

“You like having my cum all over your face?” Gavin asks, with a smirk.

 

A thick glob drips off the tip of Nines’ nose, smearing the edge of his lips and Nines swipes at it with his tongue, a pleased hum echoing in his throat. His eyes darken with a hunger Gavin knows will only be sated once he’s had the detective, eyes roving over Gavin like a predator sizing up its next meal. Gavin may be spent but if Nines keeps looking at him like _that_ , it won’t be long before he’s ready for another round.

 

“I like what you like, Gavin,” Nines says, nonchalantly.

 

He can pretend to play it cool all he fucking wants but Gavin sees right through him, knows how fucking close he is to letting his careful control slip.

 

With a small chuckle, Gavin leans down, eyes flickering to the moles spread across Nines’ sperm-covered cheek. Gingerly, he tilts Nines’ face towards him. “That so, babe? Cuz’ as hot as this is, I’d be an asshole if I didn’t help you clean up.”

 

He swipes his tongue along Nines’ cheek, tracing a line between two of the dots and swallowing his own cum. The bitterness of it makes him groan loudly and he laps at another globule of the fluids he left on Nines’ face.

 

When he pulls back, the expression the gangster’s wearing has Gavin’s stomach flipping. He tugs Gavin back in for a long, sloppy kiss, tonguing the inside of his mouth, greedily tasting what the detective had licked off his face. Gavin already feels his dick twitching with interest, wraps an arm around Nines as the gangster rises and pushes him back against the counter. Kiss-swollen lips leave his to nip and suckle at his neck and Nines presses into him—presses _all_ of himself into Gavin—and he’s so fucking hard in those tight pants of his, Gavin wonders how his monster cock hasn’t ripped through the seam.

 

“Bedroom. _Now._ ”

 

Gavin does not need to be told twice.

 

He lets Nines tug him along, pulls impatiently at the blazer he’s wearing. Clothes are removed and tossed heedlessly across the apartment in their haste to get naked—at one point, Gavin’s sure he hears something tear and he highly suspects it’s his old t-shirt—but he can’t bring himself to give a shit when he’s being ravished by lips that are too eager to taste every part of him that’s been exposed, that nibble and lick across his pecs. Before he even realizes where he is, Gavin’s being pushed down onto his bed, Nines crawling over him with a domineering grin.

 

“Such a shame,” Nines teases, finger tracing down Gavin’s chest. His fingers circle an old scar on the detective’s hip. “Con didn’t get to hear your big finish.”

 

Gavin’s eyes greedily take in the sight of Nines who, for whatever fucking reason, is still wearing his boxer-briefs, some obnoxiously overpriced European label Gavin won’t even try to pronounce. He knew Nines was ripped, could tell by the way his tight clothing seemed to hug every muscle hidden beneath the threaded layers. But seeing it was something else.

 

He licks a mole on Nines’ shoulder, runs a hand down the gangster’s abs. Fuck. Just feeling them is bringing him back to full mast. “You gonna stop talking about him and fuck me already?”

 

Nines chuckles, mussed strands falling across his eyes. There’s cum drying on his cheeks and Gavin feels that anxiety creep on him, that sudden panic of wondering why in the fuck anyone this damn gorgeous would want him. Even with the questionable moral principles that Nines seems to live by, Gavin doesn’t think anyone should look at him the way Nines does, as if there’s anything Gavin has to give worth coveting.

 

“Well, since you asked so _politely_...”

 

Gavin goes to roll over but is stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder, pushing him until he’s once more on his back beneath Nines. He tries to protest but the gangster cuts him off with a chaste kiss, hand moving to cradle the detective’s face.

 

“I want to see your face when I make you cum again,” Nines whispers.

 

Gavin swallows uneasily, wants to look away from those piercing eyes but Nines won’t let him. What he’s asking is too intimate and Gavin’s not sure he can do this. Not even the last time he had sex with Connor were they able to face each other, Gavin choking into the pillow as each thrust brought them closer to that inevitable end he knows he’s still not accepted. Not completely.

 

But with Nines above him, he starts thinking maybe letting go is a lot less terrifying.

 

“Think you’re gonna have to get rid of these,” he murmurs, wetting his suddenly dry lips. He hooks his fingers into the band of Nines’ underwear and tugs. The material slides down the gangster’s hip, over those smooth, milky thighs but Gavin’s eyes are on the thick head of Nines’ cock, tip glistening in the late afternoon light. He remembers the taste of it, the feel of it buried inside of him, and it has heat coiling in his belly at how close he is to having it once more.

 

Nines shimmies out of his underwear, kicks them off, and for the first time, Gavin’s seeing him—all of him—and fuck, is the man beautiful.

 

“You seem nervous,” Nines remarks, his lips tugging in a small smirk. “This isn’t your first time, is it?”

 

Gavin makes an indignant sound. “You know it fucking isn’t.”

 

“You shouldn’t worry, Gavin. I’ll take care of you.”

 

He kisses him softly, shifting his hips to sink between Gavin’s thighs. The length of him slides against the detective and Gavin can’t help but gasp into the kiss, wrap his arms around Nines and pull him closer. Nines breaks off the kiss, his gray eyes bright as he stares down at Gavin.

 

“I want to make you feel good.”

 

The confession makes something heavy settle on Gavin, something he cannot quite name. He closes his eyes, unable to endure any more of Nines’ intense gaze, of the earnest lilt in the man’s voice. Because the more he speaks, the longer he looks at Gavin like _that_ , the more Gavin believes him.

 

“Look at me, Gavin.”

 

And Gavin does.

 

“Fuck,” he whimpers, as he ruts against Nines. He shudders as Nines rolls his hips, “If you wanna make me feel good, then why don’t you get the fuck inside me?”

 

He goes to reach between them, tries to take Nines’ cock in hand, but the gangster takes his wrist, pins it above Gavin’s head. He clucks his tongue. “Tonight is not about me. It’s about _you_ , Gavin. And perhaps if you would exhibit a bit more patience, I can do as you so delicately put it earlier and take you to ‘Pound Town’.”

 

Gavin’s face heats up once more and he can’t help but groan. “You’re never gonna let that one go, are you?”

 

Nines’ laugh is without judgment but it does little to tame the detective’s blush.

 

He stretches over the detective and reaches for the bedside table, releasing Gavin’s wrist in the process. Gavin takes that opportunity to grip Nines’ hips, resists the urge to move his hands lower and squeeze that tight ass. Seeing some of the moles on Nines’ pecs, Gavin can’t help but press his lips to a few of them, draw a line with his tongue, as Nines opens the first drawer. “I am assuming I will find everything we need here?”

 

“Lube and condoms in the top one.”

 

There’s a hitch in Nines’ throat as Gavin grazes his teeth over one of his rosy, pert nipples. He tries to take it between his lips but Nines is already sitting back, a hand pushing down on Gavin’s chest to keep the detective from following. The pout Gavin gives him has Nines chuckling. “Careful, Detective. I may just have to have my way with you if you insist on getting creative with that mouth of yours.”

 

“That’s the idea.”

 

“And before I’ve had a chance to lick you open?”

 

He spreads Gavin’s legs apart and with a mischievous grin, descends until Gavin can feel the gangster’s breath tickling the underside of his balls. Gavin swallows, tilts his hips and exhales hard as he feels saliva dribble over his hole. And Nines certainly holds nothing back, collecting it in globs to coat his pucker with, Gavin trembling as he feels the excess slide down his crack. He’s about to ask when the actual licking’s gonna start but then Nines _breathes_ and the cool air hitting his entrance has him gripping the sheets.

 

“N-Nines,” Gavin gasps as that hot, wet tongue slides in a lazy circle around his hole.

 

The gangster laps up his own spit, drags his tongue to slick the skin between Gavin’s pucker and sac. He mouths at the flesh, suckles so loudly Gavin’s certain he can’t hear the quiet moans he’s eliciting from the detective. He spirals and traces lower to flick his tongue across Gavin’s entrance and Gavin can’t stop himself from bucking, trying to get close enough to feel it enter him. But Nines pulls back just enough that Gavin can feel him exhale and _fuuuuuuuck_ does it feel good.

 

“C’mon, Nines,” Gavin’s practically whimpering, not even ashamed at how fucking needy he sounds.

 

He glances down and watches as Nines kisses the inside of his thigh. Gray eyes flick up to his and Nines has that Cheshire grin on his face, fingers teasing the sensitive skin around his hole. “I require some clarification: what is it you wanted me to do again, Detective?”

 

“Fuck sakes. Don’t be a dick.”

 

He tries to press those fingers into him but Nines is already pulling back his hand.

 

“Niiiiines.”

 

The gangster quirks a brow. “…yes, Gavin?”

 

“Will you eat my fucking ass out already?”

 

“They say, ‘Please’ is a highly effective way of getting what you want.”

 

“...please,” Gavin grits out, impatiently.

 

He half expects Nines to continue teasing him but then that warm tongue is sliding between his cheeks, pressing against his entrance. Throwing back his head with a low moan, Gavin can’t help but utter, “Asshole.”

 

“You are what you eat,” Nines quips back, before going to town on Gavin’s hole.

 

He slurps loudly, wetting and licking against his opening, tip of his tongue slowly pressing and pressing to push into that first ring of muscles. Gavin’s already losing it, breathing heavily as a string of curses spill off his lips, pleasure blooming low in his belly as he feels that wanton tongue lick inside of him. A finger soon follows, slicked with spit, pushing in to open Gavin further and that’s when he feels Nines’ tongue plunge deeper to taste him more intimately.

  
  
By this point, Gavin’s a near weeping mess, grinding down onto Nines’ face, his cries a slurred jumble of nearly unintelligible sounds. Another finger enters him, thrusts in deep against the resistance and Gavin’s body adjusts reluctantly to the intrusion with a burn that has something hot curling inside him. Nines makes no secret of how much he’s enjoying making Gavin come undone and the detective can almost swear he feels that smirk as the gangster licks and suckles the skin near his hole, fingers thrusting in and out of him. Gavin catches that intense gaze once more and swallows hard to wet the dryness in his throat. He suddenly feels self-conscious as he is slowly being fucked open.

  
  
“You’re quite tight, Detective. Do you not finger yourself when I am unavailable to do it for you?”

  
  
Gavin makes a sound of protest as Nines removes his fingers, blushes so deep it spreads down his neck. He looks away as Nines squirts lubricant onto his hand.

  
  
“You just trying to get me to admit I jack off to you, you egocentric prick?” Gavin mumbles.

  
  
He hears Nines laugh, hot breath suddenly against his cheek as the taller man looms over him, lubed fingers once more inching their way into him. They press inside and Gavin shamelessly pushes down onto them, fucking himself onto Nines’ hand.

  
  
“I know you do, Gavin.”

  
  
A third finger is added and fuck, Gavin wants—needs—something more to fill him up, needs Nines’ cock like a man dying of thirst in a desert needs water. Nothing else will sate him.

  
  
“You touch yourself when I’m not here because you know that I’m the only one who can make you feel this good,” Nines whispers. And the cocky fucker thrusts in deep enough to stroke that part of Gavin that makes colors burst behind his closed eyes, runs his tongue along the shell of Gavin’s ear before adding, conspiratorially, “And if you must know, I have also touched myself to you. Often.”

  
  
And damn, if that doesn’t paint one hell of a picture in Gavin’s mind, of Nines bringing himself to completion, the detective’s name a breathy gasp spilling off his silver tongue like a mantra.

  
  
“Fuck me,” Gavin begs, voice hoarse and cracking with need. Nines’ fingers stroke that spot again and it has Gavin’s thighs trembling, toes curling as that ache inside him builds. “Nines, please!”

 

He’s not sure how much more of this he can take.

 

Luckily, Nines is also unable to wait any longer, taking the condom packet he had retrieved and tearing it open with barely controlled haste. He rolls it on his cock, the latex stretched so snugly it barely fits. Gavin’s thinking he’ll need to buy larger ones but then he sees Nines bite down on his lip, holding back a moan and all Gavin wants is to be the one who makes more of these sweet sounds tumble from those kiss swollen lips.

 

He’s brimming with impatience by the time Nines positions himself between Gavin’s thighs, thick head of his wrapped dick poking the detective’s entrance. A lock of hair falls over his eyes and without even thinking, Gavin’s reaching for it, brushing aside the soft strands. His thumb lingers on Nines’ cheek and there’s something almost tender in the way the gangster regards him as Gavin wipes away a trace of dried cum.

 

“I suspect this next part may be slightly uncomfortable.”

 

“Does sex with you always come with a warning disclaimer?”

 

And then he’s pushing in, the tip breaching Gavin and the detective’s gripping Nine’s shoulders tightly, holding back a grunt of pain. Though he’s expecting it, the girth alone is enough to make the initial stretch unpleasant, never mind how many more fucking inches Nines has to fill him with. But Gavin will take all of him, no matter how much it wrecks him. And he’d be lying if he tries telling himself he doesn’t want to get completely wrecked.

 

Nines’s chuckle is cut off in a breathy gasp, entering Gavin so slowly, it’s agonizing. Pleasure brims at the edges of each pain-filled trill as his body strains to accommodate the hung fucker and even with the care Nines is exhibiting, Gavin knows he’s gonna be feeling this later. It’s with a low groan that Nines sheaths himself completely, forehead falling against Gavin’s, his exhale a shudder that presses to the detective’s lips. When he attempts to move, the sound Gavin makes is no more discernible from a mewl.

 

“I should be punishing you for making me wait this long to have you again,” Nines says, nearly pulling out completely before he thrusts back in. Gavin tries to bite back a cry, feels his eyes water from how excruciating it is, but hearing Nines’ broken moan as he buries himself once more deep inside the detective makes all of it worth it. “Y-you cannot possibly understand how much I’ve wanted you, Gavin.”

 

A tear leaks down his temple but before it can hit his hairline, soft lips are pressing to his skin, kissing it away. The gangster pauses mid-thrust, still mostly inside Gavin, but Gavin’s reeling from the admission, turning his face away from Nines’ inquisitive eyes. He doesn’t want him to see how vulnerable his words have made the detective, doesn’t like being this exposed.

 

“Gavin…?”

 

He knows the only reason he gets away with this is because Nines doesn’t expect it when Gavin shifts, rolls them until Nines is under him and Gavin’s pinning both of the gangster’s wrists above his head. He sees those gray irises nearly disappear from the lust blown in those eyes, lips quirking with intrigue. But Gavin doesn’t trust himself to hold Nines’ gaze, leans down and nips playfully on the gangster’s lower lip. His control is as fragile as his ego but he’ll indulge every moment Nines allows himself to be pinned.

 

“Guess we better start making up for lost time, then,” Gavin says. He pushes down onto Nines’ cock, ignores the burn until he’s once again filled, seated on the gangster’s hips. With a grunt, he pushes up slowly and then drops back down, whimpering as his ass smacks against Nines’ balls. “Fuuuck, babe, your cock feels so fucking good.”

 

And it does, Gavin able to slide up Nines’ length with more ease now that he no longer feels as if he’s being ripped apart from the inside out. He’s now aching for an entirely different reason as he begins to move, building a steady rhythm that has shameless moans bursting from his throat. He feels Nines make a half-hearted attempt to ease out of his grip and ends up entwining their fingers to keep his hands in place. Those half-lidded eyes greedily drink in the sight of him each time Gavin pistons back down on that fat cock and the only thing that would make this better is if he could really _feel_ Nines, feel that naked dick buried in his ass.

 

“N-Nines, Nines...oh, fuck,” Gavin’s gasping, rocking down hard.

 

He cries out as Nines rolls his hips, thrusts up so roughly, Gavin’s thighs are quivering from the sensation. It was inevitable that the gangster could only sit still for so long, moving to meet Gavin each time, shaky exhales disguising the sounds Nines is trying to hold back. But Gavin can see how Nines is falling apart beneath him, sweat forming on those perfect brows, color splashed across those pale cheeks. It stirs a possessive impulse in the detective, has his leaning down in a harsh clashing of lips, tongue easing them apart to thrust as emphatically inside as he rides Nines’ dick. There’s almost something of a whimper that’s swallowed by their kissing and for once, it’s not coming from Gavin.

 

He’s caught off guard as Nines forces him onto his back, settling comfortably between his spread thighs and fucking into him as if he alone belongs there. And fuck, he just might: he’s fucking Gavin so thoroughly, he may well be ruining the detective for anyone else. In that moment, all there is is _Nines_ : his lips that pull Gavin’s into deep, wanton kisses, his hands that grip Gavin’s in a vice, too selfish to let go. Each time he slides into the detective, he’s bringing him that much closer to the edge and Gavin’s aching to ride that wave, slurring Nines name as he breaks off their kissing and buries the side of his face into a pillow. He’s so close, so fucking close—

 

“Look at me, Gavin!”

 

His name sounds so broken, so desperate, a near plea that fills the space between them. And that’s what makes Gavin look, taking in the sight of Nines moving above him, hips ramming into him, disheveled hair falling before those pale eyes and fuck has nothing ever looked more beautiful, ever felt more _perfect_ than the way Nines fits inside of Gavin.

 

It’s a number of factors that has Gavin cumming the hardest he had since the last time Nines’ fucked him: his name uttered with unbridled need, Nines striking that intimate spot inside of him, and a hand that squeezes his as colors burst behind his eyes and Gavin can’t help it, ends up throwing back his head as he cries Nines’ name. A hand sneaks into the space between them, grasps his throbbing cock, and milks him with practiced strokes, pleasure rippling from his abdomen with each streak of cum that paints across his sweaty skin. And Gavin rides it, holds on as long as he can to that sensation, his body clenching around Nines’ cock as Nines slams into him. But all it takes is a few more thrusts and Nines goes rigid, a strangled groan trapped in his throat, and then he’s spilling into Gavin.

 

He collapses, spent, head falling to Gavin’s chest, Gavin’s legs wrapped behind Nines’ thighs to keep him pulled close. Both of them breathe heavily and Gavin’s fingers are itching to stroke through those sweat-slicked locks of hair but there’s that sobering moment of clarity when he’s reminded of who is in bed with him and how dangerous it would be to let this be built on anything more than casual fucking. Never mind that there’s so much at stake if anyone he works with finds out the fucked up arrangement he’s been roped into.

 

Sensing his hesitation, Nines lifts his head, those wide eyes regarding Gavin with a curiosity that looks so much like Connor, it has guilt eating at his insides like a slow-acting poison. But then, those lips pull into a lazy smirk and that, _that_ is the sort of look only Nines would give him, has Gavin burying the shame along with the rest of his ill-gotten decisions.

 

Nines slowly pulls out of Gavin, discomfort making the detective shift beneath the gangster and bite back a sound. Nines quirks a brow as he glances at the copious amounts of cum covering both their chests and the look he then gives the detective has Gavin blushing deeply.

 

“Detective—”

 

“Not. A. Fucking. Word,” Gavin grits out and very much not pouting. Not at all. Because Gavin Reed _doesn’t_ pout.

 

Nines chuckles, swipes a thumb across Gavin’s nipple and the detective inhales sharply from how sensitive it is. The gangster traces his thumb over Gavin’s bottom lip, leaves behind drops of cum he collected and then leans in close, his breath ghosting over Gavin’s lips. His tongue darts out to clean up the mess he’s left and fuck, who knew one of the DPD’s main suspects in a drug ring case could be such a cum slut?

 

Gavin tries to chase that tongue, wants to feel that mouth pressed against his, but Nines is already sitting back, a mischievous smirk on his face. “I should get cleaned up.”

 

He walks out of the bedroom, pulling off the used condom and knotting the end of it. Gavin doesn’t let the disappointment show on his face, shifts to sit at the edge of the bed and grimaces. Fuck, he really will be feeling it for the next few days and won’t that invite questions that he doesn’t need at work, why he’s shifting funny in the chair he occupies across from Connor’s—

 

His eyes fly open.

 

_PHUCK!_

 

And with a groan, he’s dropping his head in his hands.

 

How in the fuck is he gonna explain what the hell was going on when Connor called? Connor’s no idiot and is bound to get even more suspicious and why the hell did he think it was a good idea to answer the fucking phone while Nines was sucking him off?!

 

He hears the clicking of a lighter, lifts his head to see Nines leaning across from him against the dresser, bare assed and with zero fucks to give. A cigarette rests between his lips and the protest is already on the tip of Gavin’s tongue, mouth parting to tell the fucker to get his ass onto the balcony if he’s gonna be doing that shit.

 

“Smoke?” Nines asks.

 

He indicates to the pack now sitting on Gavin’s dresser. Again, some obnoxious European shit Gavin has no hope of pronouncing correctly. Probably also expensive as fuck.

 

Gavin hesitates.

 

“ _If you want me to move in, I won’t have our home smelling like a tobacco factory,”_ Connor had said, all those years before.

 

With a shrug, Gavin says, “Why the fuck not?”

 

He stands beside Nines, goes to take one of the Собрание cigarettes—whatever the fuck that means—but watches instead as Nines lights his cigarette, inhales deeply from the burning stick. Then, with a smirk, Gavin steals it out of Nines’ hand but before he can take a puff from it, Nines is pulling Gavin into his arms, pressing his lips to the detective’s, to which Gavin eagerly accepts. Smoke fills his mouth, Gavin drawing the exhale deep into his lungs. He holds it a few moments before he breaks off the kiss and breathes out. The smoke billows into the air and, with it, the last of the denial he’s carried like a dead weight on his shoulders in all the months since Connor left.

 

Gavin always thought he’d feel sadder when this moment came.

 

But then, there are soft kisses peppering his neck, an arm curling around his waist to hold him close. Gavin places the cigarette between his lips and takes a long drag of it.

 

Some rules are meant to be broken.

**Author's Note:**

> Brownie points to anyone who catches the B99 references ;)


End file.
